


Gardens

by MorbidFixation



Category: You (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:28:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28089267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorbidFixation/pseuds/MorbidFixation
Summary: Beck.It's always been Guinevere Beck. She was everything to Peach Salinger. The air she breathed. The food that graced her palate. The fire that burned in her veins. . .Until, she wasn't
Kudos: 8





	Gardens

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick drabble. It could be nothing, or it could be everything. .  
> Who knows anymore, to be honest

Let it be known that Peach Salinger has never been a coward. Even as she stood over the motionless man nestled in the damp grass of her family estate, gun in hand. The metal white hot against her clammy hands, she was still no coward. She lifts the gun. 

The silver glistening in the pale moonlight, a glimmer echoing off of those damned white light ceramic porch tea lights her mother insisted on buying, God, she fuckin hated those things. The weight is so heavy in her hands, it’s a marvel she thinks that she can even pick it up. It must weigh a ton, but Peach Salinger is no coward. 

She could end it all now.

Her fingers jumped, gripping the decorative handle against her palm, the tiny edges within the design cutting into the sensitive flesh, but she barely notices. She could press her finger against the trigger, and just, squeeze. 

A pop! Loud, Peach knew, but she could handle it. And it would all be over.  
Beck would be hers, and she’d be called a hero, protecting herself from a sadistic pervert who used the unsuspecting Beck to gain access to the Salinger home, and assault her. She’d be praised. 

The blood would wash off the lawn, but God, the grass would be ruined. Stained with the memory of lesser blood into it’s very roots, and nothing could get rid of that stench. Every time the grass would grow, they’d smell it. Trash. Poison. Filth.  
Oh god, Just do it already. Pull the fuckin trigger.  
Her index finger inches forward, a mind of its own.  
_Pull._

It’s on the trigger now. The tiny piece of metal so light, so fragile, like a feather.  
_The._

It's resting on the edge. Just a bit of pressure.  
_Trigger._

Dark eyes slide closed, the world narrowing until there is nothing. Just the steady beating of her heart, the stilted breath within her tired lungs. And that nagging voice in the back of her head, pounding insistently against her skull, demanding. It’s teeth sharp, marred with blood and vengeance. Hungry.

_Pull. The. Fuckin. Trigger._

It’s getting louder. Peach winces, wavering slightly on her feet for a moment before righting herself. The darkness is inching in. The voice is louder. She can taste a metallic twinge on her tongue, and the voice howls. The monsters claws against her temple, Blood thirsty and aching. 

_Pull. The Fuckin. Trigger._

In through the nose, out through the mouth. 

Once. twice.

_Pull. The. Tr-_ **Bang!**  
So easy 


End file.
